The Saffron Malformation (95 page)

             
He was half asleep when he looked over at her with one eye still closed.  He smiled groggily and said, “Good dream.”

             
Ryla slipped out of her dress, climbed onto the bed with him and settled in beside him.  It was selfish but she was too selfish to care.  She kissed him again.  The next time he kissed back and his hand rested on her side.  She took it and moved it to her breast.  “Really good dream,” he said.  Then he was awake, eyes wide and looking her over.  “Woah,” he said, gripping her shoulder to keep her from kissing him again.  “I thought…” he considered his words.  “You didn’t want to do this.  What with the potential hurt feelings and us being friends and all.”

             
She shrugged.  “I don’t know.”  Her hand found his face and caressed it, she liked how smooth it was.  Then she leaned in and kissed him.  “Do you want to?”

             
His eyes scanned the slender curve of her and when they found her breasts he reached out and touched one, massaging it lightly.  He wanted to very badly.

             
She liked the way he touched her.

             
He felt desire for her and it swarmed his mind with all manner of chemicals that made his thoughts soupy.  “A little experimenting never killed anyone,” he told her.

             
“In that case, will you do something then?”

             
He gave her a quizzical look.

             
“Do you know how to use your mouth?” she wondered.

             
He smiled and chuckled.  “Yeah,” he replied.  He looked at her and she liked the way he did.  “I can do that for you.”

             
She smiled as he took his time working his way down and when he finally touched her it was with his lips and his tongue.  He kissed her there as passionately as he did her lips, even his hands continued to caress her body, and that was better than what the sailor had done.  He didn’t try to stop either, not until she told him to, which given the way he did it, wasn’t long.

             
When she caught her breath she returned the favor for a bit, but after a few ticks he climbed onto her and they had sex.  She enjoyed it thoroughly, and he did as well.

             
After, lying snug against each other on the slender bed he breathed deep and asked, “What brought that on?”

             
She closed her eyes and for the first time she lied with ease.  “No reason.  Just had the urge to… you know,” she told him.  She felt guilty about the lie so she peppered it with a bit of truth.  “It feels really good for me too.  Sex with you,” she clarified.

             
Silence held for a bit but she knew that wouldn’t last.  Suddenly all the things this one brief act of passion would bring about began to buzz in her head and so before they could break the silence she kissed him lightly on the cheek and said, “Goodnight.”

             
She sprang from the bed as he said, “Pretty sure its morning by now, or near enough.”

             
She pulled her dress on.

             
“You can stay, if you want,” he told her as if he were confessing something, because he was in a way.

             
She looked back at him and she knew she should have turned and went back to her room before any of this had happened.  Sex was the easy part of love, she realized as she stood looking at him.  It was the other bits she was having trouble understanding.  What would he think if she told him the truth about what had brought this on?  What if he knew about the sailor, and what if he knew the reason for the sailor?  That her need was brought on by a vicarious experience playing through her imagination based a story she’d read and that it hadn’t had anything to do with either of the men at all. She took a frustrated breath as she realized she couldn’t figure it out, not now at least.

             
If she would have told him about the story and wanting the sailor, of course, he could have assured her that it was normal to fantasize in such a way, but communicating openly with another wasn’t her default setting.  Plus if she actually told him what happened with the sailor, he might be hurt by it.

             
“Maybe another time,” she told him with a ghosts whisper before she turned and walked away.

A Search For Function and Purpose

             
The ship glided across the water at a good click while the group sat around a square metal table in the kitchen.  Natalie had made breakfast, with Arnie’s help, just some eggs and toast and an assortment of fruits.  Rachel made coffee, which Quey was grateful for, and Ryla had her nose buried in her sheet.

             
“What are you reading?” Natalie asked as she watched Ryla’s eyes scan words at an incredible rate.  She suspected she must read two or three pages a minute.

             
Ryla looked up, eyes wide, “A fiction story titled Mistress Mine.”

             
Rachel and Natalie exchanged a glance and smiled.  Rachel said, “Been reading a lot recently.”

             
“A lot of stories with a, shall we say, degree of romance?” Natalie added.

             
“Though I’m not sure how romantic that one is,” Rachel countered.

             
Ryla shrugged, and glanced between them.  Something was happening and she wasn’t aware of what it was.  That happened often with people, and it always bothered her.  It meant she had more to learn.  “Is it not?” Ryla asked.  “I found it in a search for stories with a love theme.”

             
Natalie chuckled but Rachel managed to hold her amusement.  “We’re not making fun of you,” she assured Ryla.

             
“Its sweet, that you’re trying to learn about love,” Natalie interjected.

             
“Yes,” Rachel agreed, “It is.  Very.  Its just that story might not be the right sort of love.”

             
Ryla was puzzled.  “There are different kinds?”

             
“In a way, but maybe those are the wrong words.  The story isn’t really about a woman in love.”  Quey returned with a sheet computer in one hand and an empty coffee mug in the other and made strait for the pot of joe.  “Quey,” Rachel called and he looked to her as he walked.  “You know what Ryla’s been reading?”

             
“Books,” he shrugged as he poured a fresh cup.  He often started the day a bit agitated, especially before he had a couple strong cups in him.

             
“Books about?” Natalie prodded.

             
He turned to them and sipped.  “Why don’t we just get to what you’re going to tell me.”

             
“She’s reading Mistress Mine.”

             
His eyes bulged slightly and he nodded.  “Huh,” was all he could think to say at first.  Then he added, “Someone better hide the sharp objects and remind the gentlemen to sleep with their junk in their hands.”  With his cup full he was off again.  The others thought they knew what was going on between him and Ryla and if they had they would have been ahead of him, because he didn’t have a clue.  Of course they didn’t have all the details so neither did they.  Outside the physicality of their relationship, which he found addicting, she was disconnected and had made it clear she always would be.  If the time came that they should part ways she might miss him a bit, but it would never really bother her.  She liked him a lot, sure and well, but love, the sort of intimate love two people sharing their lives have, was outside her grasp.

             
He should have stopped last night before it started, he knew as he left the room, because she’d been right about what she’d said in the truck, that it was best to cut it off clean.  Trouble was he’d spoken truth as well when he told her how good the sex with her was, and as he noted earlier, he found her addicting in that way, and like most addictions, he loved it even though it probably wasn’t good for him.

             
Rachel and Natalie laughed slightly as Quey made his exit.  “Breakfast in ten,” Natalie shouted after him and he raised the hand holding his sheet up in acknowledgement.

             
“I don’t get it,” Ryla said a little sad.

             
“The story’s about a woman who’s insane,” Natalie told her.  “The mistress isn’t quite all there.”

             
“She is?  I mean she isn’t?” Ryla was confused.  “How can you tell?”

             
Rachel sat adjacent to her and told her, “You can’t, not at first.  That’s the point.  Eventually you learn details about the businessman that make you suspect and then finally the narrative flips and you know.”

             
“Like he already has a lover,” Natalie said, “And his name is Keith.”

             
“Keith is his…?” Ryla asked a little surprised, but as she thought about it that seemed to make sense.  The scene between them at the beginning changes completely when she looked at it that way.

             
“You wanna read a mistress story try Mechanical Mistress,” Natalie told her.

             
“What’s that about?”

             
“You’ll like it,” Rachel assured her with a smile.

             
Ryla went onto the network and downloaded the story she suggested.  She was only a dozen pages in when breakfast was ready but she could already tell she liked it better.

             
Leone and Amber joined them just as breakfast was about to be ready and they all sat.  They ate and shared light conversation before clearing the table and then it was all business.  You could feel the shift in the air as Quey set his sheet at the center of the table and pulled up the list of the security compounds he’d selected as the most likely targets.  Everyone around the table leaned forward and scrutinized the holographic images Quey’s sheet was projecting above the table.

             
“Near as I can tell these three’ll be our best bet, though, to be honest I don’t really know.  I’m not a soldier and I’ve never planned a siege of anything before so if anyone see’s different don’t hesitate to say.”

             
Rachel knew a bit, mostly pieces she’d picked up from her brother long ago, but she didn’t spot anything Quey had missed.

             
“I don’t like this one,” Arnie said, tapping the island south of west continent.

             
“Yeah neither do I,” Rachel agreed.

             
“Nor I,” Quey added.  “It has the least amount of guards, that’s the only reason it’s on the list.”

             
Ryla was tapping her own sheet rapidly, her eyes darting over information.

             
“It has the least amount because it’s an island,” Arnie said.  “They see you coming from a hundred kilometers and blow you out of the water before you even get to land.”

             
Quey nodded.  “I only chose it because if somehow we figured a way past that it would be the easiest.”

             
“It is the easiest,” Ryla said.  They looked to her, scanning data on her device.  “Twice a week a cargo transport goes to and from the island.”

             
“Arnie, you could fly one of those, couldn’t you?” Rachel asked.

             
Arnie looked around the table and shrugged, “Sure.”

             
“He won’t have to,” Ryla interjected.

             
“Well we can’t just walk on up and ask them nicely for a ride,” Quey teased.

             
Ryla looked up and stared at him.  “The personnel responsible for the transport have been the same crew for nearly five years.  If suddenly a group of strangers show up instead…”

             
Quey nodded, “Alright, so what’s your plan then?”

             
“A good old fashioned Trojan horse.”

             
“Come again?” Quey asked.

             
Ryla was disappointed to see no one understood.  “We hack into the inventory for the transport and add a few crates.  These crates will contain us, and whatever people Rachel’s brother brings.  The transport will deliver us to the island and when the time is right we climb out and take it.”

             
Glances passed between the people sitting at the table.

             
“It’s simple,” Rachel commented.

             
“Simple is good,” Quey agreed.

             
“Simple and clean,” Ryla countered.

             
“You can get into the computer?” Quey asked Ryla.

             
“The transport doesn’t originate from a military outpost, and the base isn’t the only place they supply.  It’s a hub for west continent with people coming and going all the time and that means the computer’s security won’t be as guarded.”

             
“That’s true,” Rachel agreed.  “The more people you have logging onto a system the easier it has to be to compromise otherwise nothing gets done.”

             
“Still, with all the commotion on North continent they might have tighter security.”

             
“What is going on back at the compound?” Natalie asked Ryla.

             
“As of now nothing.  I’ll receive an alert if anything happens but I still check every few hours.”

             
“Governments like to take their time on things like this,” Quey said.  “They’ll come, and they’ll come hard, thinking they can end things quickly.  I’d say tonight or tomorrow morning.”

             
“Ryla do you know what that place was originally built for?” Rachel asked.

             
“It was a research facility for a project designed to reduce the cost of Security forces by utilizing cutting edge technologies based on theories that were abandoned after the age of robotics failed.  They wanted ways of landing a fully functional base onto a planet to minimize time between invasion and occupation.”

             
“Blue Moon was looking for ways to take out the competition,” Rachel noted.

             
“Actually Blue Moon had nothing to do with that project.  They’d abandoned the facility long before and an independent investor took it over.” Ryla replied.

             
“Abandoned why?” Quey asked.

             
Ryla shrugged.

             
“Independently funded by whom?” Rachel asked.

             
“No names were ever noted in any file.  I suspect people curious to see where the technology could go.”

             
“So they developed you,” Natalie said and instantly felt terrible for her choice of words.  “I mean they developed-”

             
“Yes,” Ryla said.  “They created the technology that made my organic hardware system possible.

             
A moment of silence passed and then Quey asked, “You think there are others?”

             
“Like me?” she clarified.  When he nodded she replied, “Doubtful.”

             
“But possible,” Rachel added.

             
“Yes, though not probable.”

             
“Its interesting no one ever came for the facility,” Arnie noted.

             
“The project failed seventy six years ago.  Those that knew of it are likely to have passed long ago,” she offered.  “Its probable Blue Moon didn’t even know it existed until recently.”

             
“She has been pretty far under the radar,” Quey noted.

             
“In any case, it doesn’t really matter,” Rachel said.  “If this is our plan, Ryla’s Trojan horse, then I need to tell my brother we’re meeting on west continent.”

             
“And I need to get to work on the virus for the network computers,” Ryla added.

             
Quey shrugged.  “It’s better than any plan I might have come up with.”  He scanned Arnie and Natalie for their approval.

             
“It’s solid,” Arnie said.

             
Natalie simply nodded.

             
“We’ll need to put together a list of supplies,” Quey finished.  “Natalie, you need to consider everything you may need.  I’m guessing you’ll be the closest thing to a medic we’ll get on this and I doubt it’ll go down without led flying.”  She nodded.  “If the rest of you come up with anything, write it down and we’ll handle it on west continent.  In the mean time,” he trailed off.  “I don’t know.  Try to rest up as much as you can.”

             
Slowly the group dispersed, going their separate ways, looking to pass the time until they arrived on Topaz where they’d board the rail set for west continent.